


Bad dog, no biscuits

by Catharrington



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Bottom Steve Harrington, Dry Humping, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Pet Play, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Rutting, Topping from the Bottom, keg king Steve Harrington, king Steve is Billy’s kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catharrington/pseuds/Catharrington
Summary: Billy’s watching Steve at Tina’s Halloween bash. He sees the heartbreak. Smells the tears. Tastes the beer as it spills down. Circles around the blood like a dog, dripping at the fangs with the want of it. What Billy doesn’t realize is, Steve’s got a collar with his name on it.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 12
Kudos: 264





	Bad dog, no biscuits

Tinas Halloween bash was lame, Billy considered, as he watched Steve Harrington follow behind his sloppily drunk date into the bathroom. 

The one good country boy Billy was interested in tied around the neck like a dog and forgetting... Forgetting what exactly Billy didn’t know. Because he didn’t know Steve. But he wanted to. So, so very much he wanted to. 

Even before he learned that this was the ever so romantically outcasted King Steve from Tommy’s big mouth, Billy watched him predatorily from the other side of the living room. 

Steve leaned against the wall with a casual indifference looking alarmingly unafraid. Thick black glasses on his nose expensive and perched just like a crown. 

Billy felt himself snarl again, feral in a familiar way, like when he saw someone across a club back in Cali that he wanted. Billy hadn’t felt that pull of attraction for months, since he moved down to Hell, Indiana. He used to be able to get the itch out from under his skin easily. Lots of other losers in the closest looking for a good time in a dark bathroom. 

Billy wasn’t new to the scene, wasn’t new to the lingering glares or the swipe of tongue against lips. The pass of a foot under a bathroom stall door. But he was new to Hawkins. And here it seemed he was the new kid and Steve was some untouchable castle at the top of a hill. 

That didn’t sit well with Billy. That was going to have to change. 

For the next 10 minutes he watched and waited just in the next room from the bathroom, leaned against a wall with the neck of a beer bottle in his hand like he was only relaxing, not like he was snooping. 

The door finally creaked open and there he was, Steve, all but diving out of the bathroom and back into the crowded hallway. He was bee-lining for the door when something caught him, a slight turn of his head, an idea lingering there. Then Steve turned on his heels to go through the sliding doors and into the back yard. 

Billy couldn’t catch up, couldn’t understand. Steve not only storming off away from his beloved date Nancy Wheeler, red eyed from crying, but he also dove right back into the commoner’s party like he hadn’t been turning his nose at it just earlier. He was headed right for the huge iron keg still crowded with people. 

Kicking himself off the wall, Billy almost ran into Nancy as she found herself lead out in the arms of a shaggy dark haired boy. That’s a flash of information Billy is going to have to keep for a later time. Now, he needed to get outside quickly and see this King Steve he heard so much about. 

Just in time, Billy slid open the sliding door as Steve’s fingers were pressed into the stiff fabric of Tommy’s karate costume. Steve’s height was an advantage, as well as his sunglasses now perched back on his gorgeous nose, as he rolled out demands. Tommy was hesitant but he wasn’t immune to the pull of his friend. The ties seemed to be not severed as Tommy boasted about before, but simply strained. Steve’s spot as their leader hadn’t grown cold enough to be forgotten. 

Billy’s ears perked up as he heard his name and then some cheering. He pushed himself forward just as Steve shrugged off his well tailored jacket for someone to hold. This wasn’t the best idea, but for Billy watching it was every bit nerve racking as exciting. He watched as Steve got a good grip on the hard metal sides of the keg before Tommy and another teen got a good grip around Steve’s legs and lifted him. 

The crowd chanted, ecstatic at having their favorite show pony back, fists and red cups up in the air as they counted the time. Billy kept his own hand down in a tight fist in front of his strained jeans. 

“No way,” he whispered out. His voice was hidden under the rise in the crowd as Steve reached the bar set by Billy, then cleared it. Just by a few seconds, just to prove he can. Billy felt himself stiffen harder in his jeans. 

Tommy and the other boy let Steve down, whooping and hollering along with everyone. But Steve didn’t shout his victory. He came back to the ground with a cocky ass smirk, one side of his wet cherry lips pulled up, and the only thing he did was swipe at the extra beer on his lips with the pad of his thumb. 

When Billy finished he had spit out a mouth full of beer all over himself, down his chest, and yelled into the crowd just as hyped as they had been. But Steve... he just basked in it, effortlessly unafraid, head and shoulders above his kingdom. 

Billy wasn’t new to the scene, but Steve was something he had never seen before. He was addicting different. 

“Sorry about your time, Hargrove,” Tommy’s voice was distant when he was standing right next to Billy. He must have noticed him and come to brag about Steve now, in the same manner he was just bragging about new Keg King Billy. 

But he wasn’t really, his voice much too low for any thing close to bullying.

“Think he got his heart torn in two.” Tommy whispered to only Billy. It was a statement more than a question. 

Billy simply shrugged his shoulders. 

In this small town and in this leather jacket, showing off his cut abs and tanned skin, standing out like a page of a pop up book away from everyone else at Tina’s Halloween bash, Billy didn’t care. For all the eyes flicking from Steve to Billy then back to Steve, Billy had to make sure to appear as if he didn’t care. But, really it was all an act. 

Really he did care. He cared so much it hurt. 

“Nothing I can’t break next go round. Only a few more seconds.” Billy laughed. 

Tommy pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the keg but Billy shook his head. Tonight he was warm enough inside his stomach from the amber alcohol he already had. 

Billy wanted to have some alertness, especially because just then he noticed the boy who was dutifully holding onto Steve’s jacket pass him the neck of a Jack Daniels’ bottle. And Steve took drinks from it like he was dying, then when he was finished he swayed a little into the boy’s offered arm, a warm smile on his face. 

Billy felt a familiar burn in his chest, he had seen this before, he was this guy before, drinking to lose himself in it. To bury down something crawling up. 

But he had to remember he didn’t know Steve at all. So Billy kept to the back of the crowd. He entertained Tommy as much as his sarcastic comments could before Tommy left him too, following behind Steve as they strutted shoulder to shoulder into the house. 

“Start like, a chant or something?” Steve ducked his head into Tommy’s cheek and spoke as he stood by his side. Worry festered under Billy’s skin as he watched Tommy hop to it, proclaiming the new keg record for the living room and chanting ‘Long live the king!’. 

Billy got several claps on his back and a few girls sliding their hands into the open space of his jacket promising that he ‘still looked better’, ‘still did it best‘. But this night wasn’t about him, not anymore. 

Billy kept watching as Steve danced, more like jostled about in the middle of the floor. The mass of bodies parting for him and then swallowing him back up. Tommy on one side and this new servant boy still holding his jacket on the other. This guy was starting to really annoy Billy. He kept his hands right where he could reach out and touch Steve if he wavered too much in the crowd. And that dark bottle of Jack still passed easy between all three boys wasn’t a good sign. 

The music changed in the house stereo to something even louder, something that had Steve’s puppy dog smile stretching wider. A Queen song started up heavy, and hot, making Billy wish he could see behind those thick black sunglasses to see if maybe Steve closed his eyes with the music. 

Billy felt like he was 15 years old again, standing at the back of a bar in California he snuck into and just looking with lust in his eyes at the dancing bodies around him. It was the fire for adolescent wet dreams. It was driving him mad. But nothing Billy couldn’t hold down if he tried hard enough. 

Something he couldn’t hold down was the urge growing in his throat to throw up. He watched and watched as Steve allowed himself to drink the bottle down to a sliver of liquid left. Billy tasted bile in the back of his throat as that same little servant boy dumped Steve’s jacket on the back of a couch so he could have two hands to slide around the King’s waist. He gripped his beer hard in his hands just like his inhibitions as he finally stalked across the living room. 

“Bills- my man!” Tommy greeted him with another slap on the back. This was all very exhausting.

Steve’s glasses were still perched on his nose and this creep’s hand were still hovering on his waist. “Oh is this a gift for your King?” His smile was wicked as Steve reached forward and stole the beer bottle right out of Billy’s hand. Dipping his head back and filling his throat with the contents, Steve downed the rest of the bottle in long, beautiful gulps. 

The servant seemed to think Steve was looking good too, his hand slid from that slender waist to grip onto his forearm. Steve jostled from the sudden touch and gasped around the bottle neck, dripping beer down his throat and across his shirt. 

“Damn,” He giggled, fucking giggled. “Whoops. Party foul.” Then Steve pushed the empty bottle back into Billy’s hands while he completely changed the game. Smiling ear to ear, not seeming to care he was surrounded by three boys pressed very close to him, Steve reached behind his shoulders and pulled off his tight black shirt. And of course, those sunglasses didn’t budge. 

“I’m gonna need more gifts like that. I’m the King of all you pin pricks, remember?” 

Then Steve shoved his wet shirt towards Billy and took back the empty beer bottle. Behind the sunglasses Billy couldn’t see anything but the dark outline of his eyelashes, but Billy felt he was making eye contact as Steve licked up the side of the glass neck and swallowed the last drips of the beer down hard. 

Then he turned and left. Billy was gripping the black shirt in his hand enough to rip it. 

Tommy trailed after Steve while the servant seemed hesitant. Good, Billy snarled at him until he skittered away. 

Billy collected Steve’s jacket to keep with his shirt. The now half naked boy was basking in golden sunlight levels of attention. As he walked he picked glasses from peoples hands like he was owed, and according to the cheering and cat calls from people Billy supposed he was. 

There was already a littering of trash around the house, the tail end of a party already running hard for hours usually left a house a pig sty. Steve found his way into the kitchen where he was blessed with the most amount of shiny things he could find. Tommy played along with him, right at his heals, while Billy followed after them. 

Steve has another beer on his lips, the long neck tilted back with the bottom up in the air. He swallows that down easily. Pulling the lip away to take a gasping breath. His head was still leaned back, letting his thin neck stretch and stretch around those breaths while Billy just watched. Clutching Steve’s costume jacket and his shirt soaked with beer, twisting their fabric in his hands while he simply watched. 

A girl, a cute little thing with a circle face and hair pulled back into a high pony, moves close to Steve. Closer than Tommy. Gets herself so close she reaches out to trail one pretty painted hand up the ladder of Steve’s ribs. He presses himself against the sink counter, lounging back and allowing the pets, belt buckle shiny on the top of his jeans as they cross over his flat stomach. Her hands have no problem tracing the path, bumping over each belt loop, side to side, scuffing the shiny silver buckle with her finger prints. 

Tommy’s the one who does it, Billy thinks at least, he wasn’t really paying attention to the freckled fuck. He lets the empty bottle of Jack Daniels slip from his fingers to drop, shattering loudly across the floor. It cuts into the air lightening hot. The girl is pulling her hand away to not get burnt. Steve’s breath catches, Billy notices because he’s still looking at that expanse of stomach left on display. 

There’s a lull of talk, right before the clambering starts back up again, and some one is coming over with a broom and dust pan, Tommy leans over and whispers into Steve’s ear. 

Billy can’t hear what was said from the distance. But he’s reaching the end of his limits. The spank bank of a 15 year old boy was filled to the brim long ago, and he’s getting too big to loiter in corners and wish for skin to bite down on to find him. 

Billy doesn’t make any bones about following the two boys as they stumble, messy, out of the kitchen down the hallway to the bathroom. Tommy pushes Steve in and turns to close the door behind them, when the wood is caught by Billy’s thick boot. Twice he opens the door and tries to close it, hitting the leather with a twak, before Billy’s growling. 

“I think Harrington over there has had enough to drink for one night?” He says, voice low, but mean. Trying to make a point. 

Tommy has the balls to roll his eyes. “Come on, don’t be a square, Hargrove! Stevie boy here gets real fun the more he drinks. Sometimes he’s just got to purge to make some more room- nothing I can’t help him with alone-,”

“Blow jobs are fun,” Billy drawls out the words, angrier and angrier, “but this? This is a case of alcohol poisoning in the making. He an addict or somethin’?“

Tommy smiles but it doesn’t stretch far. One side of his face is turned down in his own reluctance. “Blow jobs will get you syphilis, man whore,” he prods back. 

“I’m surprised you know that much, dumb fuck-,” Billy’s got more to say, more on his mind to take out on Tommy’s freckled face. But they are both interrupted by a squeaking pull of the metal rings of a shower curtain and then a muffled grunt. 

Tommy takes his hand off the door to turn around and Billy takes his shot at pushing the door open. Long legs bent over the porcelain tub, Steve had gone limp and dropped out of the bathtub and landed halfway on the ground. He rolled over, shoulders laying flat on the ground, the angle making his waist turn narrow in a way that has Billy licking across his lips. Steve’s got a goofy smile on his face, sunglasses still perfect, bottle of beer that he didn’t bring into the bathroom with him clutched in his hand. 

Tommy starts to scold him under his breath, cursing the guy he basically drove into this position like an ugly cheerleader. Billy gives him only a second before he’s pushing the rest of the way into the small bathroom. Not giving any time to high pitched arguemnts from Tommy. He easily pushes past him and stands over Steve. He gets big hands under Steve’s shoulders and lifts. Heaving with all his own numb from beer strength and lifting Steve over his shoulder. He gets one arm around the back of his thighs, squeezing down, while the other balances Steve’s shoes as they kick around in vain. 

“Hey- hey!” Steve starts to protest before it dissolved into giggles, bracing his hands on a wide leather belt an inch over Billy’s ass. He slides a little, Billy’s leather jacket of his costume slipping and moving across beer and sweat soaked skin, but Steve holds tight. 

He walked out the bathroom quickly, Tommy grumbling behind them but not making too much noise. The party goes on around them loud as ever. A few people nod at them, laugh at them, as they take notice the way Steve‘s lugged around like a sack of potatoes over the new student’s shoulder. But they find answers in the humor of Billy’s shit eating grin. It’s all a joke, two boys being boys, nothing to notice here. 

He kicks the front door open, loudly, braces Steve’s thighs close to his chest as the boy gives a small wiggle from the commotion. The squeeze silenced him up, Billy takes note of that as he walks them out to where his Camaro is parked. 

He opens the door with one hand and as gracefully as he can dumps Steve out on the back seat. It’s not easy shoving him between the front seat and back, and Steve doesn’t make it easy as he kicks out his long legs and reaches for the leather seats like he wants to scratch away. Billy shoves him harder. Gets Steve flat on his back so his arms rest useless over his head, his hair a fan of long dark silk around his head, and his naked chest heaving in the darkness. 

It’s a lot. 

Billy turns away from him, looking over his shoulder to find the door to the party closed. And no Tommy following them. That’s surprising.  
Billy’s still got Steve’s tailored coat in his fist. He must have dropped the wet shirt somewhere. He balls the jacket just a smidge tighter, feeling the expensive fabric fold under his dirty hands, and throws it towards Steve. 

It hits him in the face with a oof, making him scramble to remove it. “Bastard,” Steve curses him. 

“That’s not my name,” Billy shoots back. He knows he should move. Should pull back the front seat so it blocks his view of Steve then get behind the wheel and drive. Wait, he hadn’t considered where to drive. Or if he even should be driving after doing a keg stand. 

“What’s your name then?” Steve purrs, fucking purrs, and it’s a siren’s call from the dark side of the ocean if he ever heard one. 

“Billy Hargrove,” he signs his own death certificate. 

Steve lays out more over the backseat, if that’s even possible, stretches languidly. His back arched and his ribs going up so his waist looks so narrow. So good, and exposed, perfect for wrapping hands around it. Billy’s mouth goes dry as he watches. 

“Billy... Hard-grove?” Steve’s foot moves up, his expensive white sneakers shove into Billy’s thigh before creeping up and up. Pokes with his toe at the inseam of his jeans. Not an inch under the outline of Billy’s dick looking painfully hard and trapped under the fabric. And he can’t read what Steve’s getting at from his eyes because those damn dark sunglasses have stayed put. 

He should move away, should shove that foot away. Instead, he bucks into the pressure. “It’s cold,” he lies, “October air. And I’m shirtless.”

“It’s Halloween,” Steve hums in agreement. “And I can see that you are very shirtless.” The foot moves up a little more, Billy groans as it ghosts lightly across his dick. His hands ball into fists atop the cars cold metal, but that doesn’t stop him from bucking again at the touch. 

“Wait,” Steve’s foot drops, “I’m shirtless too, how did I get shirtless?” He asks in a laugh. 

Billy watches as Steve trails his fingers over his naked chest as if to confirm before he gulps. “You took your own shirt off, believe it or not. Felt like some power play.”

“Power play?” Steve drawls the words. He rolls his head around the back of the seat, debating something. 

“Power play, King Steve,” Billy repeats. 

Steve lowers his sunglasses to look over the top. Big brown eyes on him, leveling him with an iris blown wide and near black. So big, so captivating, Billy doesn’t stand a chance when Steve holds a hand out for him. 

“Come here,” he says, curling one finger. 

Billy moves just as he’s told, drops into the back seat heavy. Crawling on all fours up the long leather seat to hover over Steve’s laid out body. Billy braces himself up on his arms, one on either side of Steve’s head, while he watches the boy readjust his glasses on his nose. He blocks Billy from looking at him, smirks as he does it, and lifts his hands to cup around Billy’s jaw gently. 

“Well, California. That was easy,” Steve whispers. The air between them is hot. It smells like beer. And behind them in Tina’s house the party is still loud, they can hear the music vibrating the pavement of the road. 

Billy’s surprised how much he doesn’t care. He’s surprised how entranced he is by the black mirrors, an expensive ass pair of Ray Bands, Steve’s got him hypnotized with. 

“Just makin sure you ain’t gonna wretch in my car, King,” Billy tries to excuse himself. There really isn’t an excuse for him. 

Steve smirks like he knows. “Mmh, not king anymore?” Steve whines through his upturned lips. Scolding him, makes Billy flush red down the collar of his leather jacket. “I think someone dethroned me tonight?” 

Steve’s fingers tickle as they slide up and down Billy’s jaw. Once gently, the second time he uses his nails to scratch at Billy’s slight beard grow.  
Billy winces as the motion hurts. But he doesn’t move away. 

“I think...,” Steve pinches Billy’s jaw between his finger and thumb, hard, uses the skin to pull Billy down closer. Whispers right into his flushed red lips. “Someone needs to be punished?” 

Billy doesn’t have a second to reply, can’t nod even, before Steve opens his mouth and licks a long swipe up Billy’s mouth. He curls the tip of his tongue to brush over Billy’s button nose. His tongue leaves a thick layer of spit where it passed right over Billy’s lips, and he opens his mouth to pant for more. 

“Fuck,” he groans, trying to push forward to collect his lips into an actual kiss, but Steve’s hand is still pinching his chin. He licks again and again, wetting his scraggly mustache and making his lips glossy. 

Billy furrows his brows. He doesn’t know exactly what to do, hasn’t been kissed quite like this before. Wonders briefly if this even is a kiss, that is until Steve’s working his tongue between Billy’s parted lips. He licks over sharp white teeth and cheap beer flavor over the roof of his mouth, but Steve never seals their lips in a kiss. 

A part of Billy is getting angry, getting impatient, he tries to kiss back but that just sends Steve away. Billy groans loud and long, curses out another “fuck!” as he tries to chase Steve. 

But Steve squeezes his chin hard. Taking Billy’s face and yanking it right where he wants it to be. Hovering politely inches from Steve’s face. 

“This is a punishment, puppy,” Steve scolds him, “you don’t get to make the rules.”

“Puppy?” Billy gasps out, words slurred from his slick lips. 

He only gets a soft hum as a reply. Steve nodding his head innocently as his other hand moves from Billy’s chin down and dangerously down to wrap slender fingers around his neck. 

Billy wishes Steve wasn’t wearing those fucking shades as he got his fingers around Billy’s thick neck and squeezed. He wishes he could have seen the flash of danger in those caramel pools, how they spin and spin with anger and lust until they’re the same thing. Billy gasps out as he’s forced to only imagine it. His breath catching in his throat trapped under those pretty fingers, face swelling and eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

Steve giggles under him again. Billy’s hands don’t move from where they are holding himself up. His thighs tighten in his denim jeans a little at the strain. As he sees black fog around the corners of his eyes, imagines slipping into it. He finds himself bucking into the pressure, drops his hips down to lay over Steve’s skinnier body and grinds into him. 

Then Steve’s letting go with another giggle, leaving his hand loose around Billy’s neck as a promise. 

Billy’s coughing hard and taking gasps of the stale air in the backseat of the Camaro. He groans and tries to drop his head forward just to lay on Steve, but gets caught again. Gets punished again. Those fingers tightening their grip for only a second to move him back where Steve wants him to be. 

Billy’s breathing hard, his lips still wet with Steve’s spit and now a little of his own as he drools out the corners of his mouth. He can feel Steve’s eyes watching even if he can’t see him. 

“I’m feeling like bullshit tonight, California,” Steve says matter of fact. Billy knows, he watched him get his heart broken and his girl leave the party with another guy, Billy knows. But he’s not prepared for the next words. 

“So I’m not going to beat around the fucking bush, okay? Because I’m bullshit, and this party is bullshit, and love is bullshit, but- y’know what ain’t bullshit?”

Billy waits for a reply. “What’s that?” he asks shakily. 

Steve sneers, one side of his lips flicking upwards. “The work I’ve put into running this shit hole school. The time I’ve spent training all you dumb, rutting animals like the dogs you are.” 

Billy searches Steve’s face with loads of questions, stutters out a meek, “Dogs?” Before Steve’s grimace deepens. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve groans, annoyance making his voice mean. Making it hot. “Dogs are not allowed to speak, if I want you to bark I’ll say it.” 

Steve moves his other hand not around Billy’s throat to cup over his mouth. Still wet with spit, his skin feels so hot and gross against his face. Smells like warm beer and Jack Daniels mixed together. But Billy feels helpless as he moans into the palm. Nudges his face into the touch to get even closer. 

“You’re going to do exactly as I say now, right California?” Steve lowers his voice to a whisper. The question sugary sweet, but nothing short of a demand. “You’re going to be a good puppy for me?” 

Billy nods. His thick eyebrows twisted in a furrow, but he knows when he’s beat, when he’s trapped hard and dripping in his pants ain’t the time to be worried about what pet names he likes to be called. But fuck, no matter how out of left field this feels it’s really doing it for him. 

Steve nods back, showing he noticed the good behavior, and Billy finds himself mirroring. Nodding again. Steve giggles. 

“Good puppy,” Steve moans. He wiggles under Billy’s heavy weight, sucking in a readying breath as he pulls his legs out from under Billy and spreads them. Bending his knees and lifting his parted thighs so he’s got Billy in a cage of those long, deliciously long legs. Steve exhales so pretty as he tilts his hips just right. Makes his ass hit up flush against Billy’s bulging cock. 

“Holy shit,” Billy moans out desperately, bucking into the plush softness of Steve’s ass, his words slurring into the palm on his lips. 

Steve grips his mouth harder, digging his fingers into Billy’s cheeks meanly. “No barking, puppy,” he coos. Pulls Billy’s face closer to his with a sharp yank. He sticks his pretty pink tongue out and licks one wet swipe over the back of his own palm, curls his tongue so he tickles the tip of Billy’s nose. Makes the boy above him flare his nostrils in a barely kept together exhale of air. 

“You wanna cum, puppy?” Steve asks. 

Billy’s dick gives a kick. He nods frantically. Steve giggles, that voice starting to sound like some curse digging its way into Billy’s brain and staying there, his mouth forming a breathtaking smile. 

Steve looks like an angel wearing sunglasses as he says, “Go on then, it’s okay. You can use me to cum. Fuck into this ass like the animal you are, just a hole hungry dog, huh? It’s okay, go ahead.” 

Billy whimpers, his body shivering and convulsing as he listens, driving his hips downwards. Thrusting his hips so his cock hard to the point of hurting ruts into Steve’s ass. Their denim on denim makes dry slaps fill the back seat, but Billy feels inside his jeans how wet he’s getting with pre cum. Dripping with it as he drills down as hard as his straining muscles can allow. 

Steve’s hands curl around his throat and mouth almost gently, almost lovingly, as he pulls him closer. His head thrown back on the black leather seats with a silent moan. Lips parted and inhaling ragged breaths as his body throttles with each thrust. 

He takes everything Billy gives, lets himself get pounded down into the seat of the Camaro. His legs folding around Billy’s back to drag him in even closer. 

“There’s a good boy,” Steve starts chanting as he shivers, getting close himself, Billy can’t believe his eyes as he notices. “Such a good dog, gonna cum just from rutting into my ass,” he breaks off in a chuckle, his throat contracting so fucking beautifully. 

By some grace, some malice, Steve takes his hand away from Billy’s mouth. Tucks it between their bodies and uses it to rub his own hard cock through his jeans. Let’s out a long moan much louder than they should be being in the back of a car still parked in front of a house party. But it makes his throat strain, his veins and muscles flexing under pale skin. Moles dotting up the side like chocolate chips. 

Billy doesn’t give a fuck if it makes him a bad dog, he’s drooling with want. With need. 

He leans forward and kisses Steve’s throat as hard as he can, bruising lips and jabbing with teeth. Licking the area he can reach wet with his spit, mixing with the sweat and spilt beer, and then Billy sucks as much of that delicious skin into his mouth as he can. Bites down, hard, trying to leave a mark. 

Steve’s hand curls harder around his throat almost cutting off his air again. But the boy is distracted jerking himself off to Billy’s thrusts. And Billy’s making sure he’s thrusting wild, bucking like an animal Steve says he is. 

“Yes, yes,” Steve moans, he’s getting closer, Billy’s vision is going blurry with how close he is, “cum for me, puppy, my puppy,” 

And that send Billy over the edge, he gives one more thrust as hard as he can before tensing up into one long ridge. His cock jerks and squirms inside his tight jeans as he cums. Curls out the tip and makes the fabric messy, no underwear to catch it in, just his denim. 

Steve’s legs twitch on either side of him, letting himself go in his own still done up and still buckled jeans. But it’s good, if his whimpering moans have anything to say about it. His head and his wild brown hair is still leaned backwards. 

Billy’s face is still pressed into his neck. He peppers the area with kisses, sloppy and open mouthed, loud as they slap the skin. Billy’s whole body feels lazy as he kisses along Steve’s amazing throat. He feels warm, inebriated, slightly in love if he isn’t careful. 

Steve’s hand quivers on his throat. Just holding there a steady pressure. Like a dog’s collar. His other hand moves from between them to push through Billy’s wild curls. Petting into them. Running those thin fingers into their messy nest over and over, working out knots, scraping across his scalp when he can. 

Billy looks up, holds himself on shaky arms as he tries to see Steve’s face. 

Steve picks his head up, meets Billy’s eyes. The sunglasses have shaken off his face, tumbling down unnoticed to the floor of the Camaro. 

They breath heavy together. Just looking for a second, Billy’s blue eyes red and bloodshot with how much he wants to cry. Steve’s eyes half open but still impossibly big and brown and beautiful. They don’t talk, don’t say shit, as they both lean forwards in sync and kiss. 

Steve tastes like beer and cherries, swollen red and juicy as he tilts his head to get closer. To get more of Billy on him when he already has every inch of Billy’s skin he could offer. It’s slow, languid, lazy as they move. Parting only to suck in stale air. Then kissing more, pecking like they can’t get enough of each other. 

Billy parts with a shaking groan, pushing his forehead into Steve’s to keep him at bay. Both boys panting open mouthed the only noise in the night. The party forgotten. The music vibrating forgotten. 

Billy feels his whole night has boiled down to just the feeling of Steve’s fingers around his throat. Their weight the answer to all the stupid shit he’s been asking. 

What Steve’s forgotten, what Billy’s been craving. All right there. Between Steve’s fingers. 

“Billy... California,” Steve exhales. His eyes blinking slowly. His lips swollen from kissing, cherry red. 

“Call me puppy,” Billy doesn’t let his apprehension stop him, “call me your puppy,” he begs. 

Steve’s lips slowly curl into a smile. He giggles, his cheeks folding in perfectly for the smuggest fucking smile Billy’s ever seen. He’s so enamored, so addicted to this boy already. 

“Give me a ride home, my little puppy?” Steve coos. 

Billy nods quickly, almost hitting their noses together with how close they are. The motion makes Steve laugh again. But Billy’s smiling too, laughing too, basking in the attention. If he had a tail it would be wagging.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y’all enjoyed!!! 🌻


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